The Garden
by Sarela Jade
Summary: Padmé discovers a solemn, shadowed figure in her garden, and it turns to hidden passion. And yet a soft, strange and sad music is accompanied by the figure's grieving presence. Oneshot. Very AU.


A/N: The idea for this fic just popped into my head and would not leave me alone. This oneshot story is set shortly after TPM. Padmé trails out to the palace balcony one night and hears a beautiful music playing below in her garden, in the courtyard, leading to an unforgettable encounter with a certain grieving apprentice…I hope y'all like it!

**EDIT:** I have recently revised this short little story, since when I was reading it over the other day (smart, huh? Proof-reading your work AFTER you've posted it...) and I found many grammar mistakes. Plus, I have shortened the detail, in order to make it flow better. Hopefully, the story will not be easier to read since it won't be so 'detail-heavy' as it was before. Enjoy!

* * *

  
The Garden

In the glimpse of the sunlight, there came starlight, overshadowing with soft watercolors across the sky, sparkling like oceanic jewels or diamonds.

Lavender crests, orange spikes, pink and yellow highlights, silver and twilight fading to dusk…A flare of wild, magical flashes of brilliant color swam among the sky, sleeping among the stars, to a rhythm of the heartbeat of the galaxy.

Padmé Amidala, rightful and former Queen of Naboo, stood inertly on a rigid, hand crafted crystalline balcony, overlooking the rays of dusk as it settled upon the sparkling walls of the palace, trailing over the glistening, moonlit waters and lakes, lighting up the many life forms, plants and petite homes for as far as she could see across the eastern horizon.

The white moon began to slowly drift up into the dark sky, blazing it with a piercing aura, pure and colorless. The shades and paints that had aligned across the fading clouds dissolved into the misty air, retreating beneath the mountains.

The balcony was decorated in lavender sashes and flowing, see-through scarves, floating in the gentle, cool breeze that brushed swiftly past. Tiny, graceful bells hung on the arch of the walkway, glittering in the moonlight that struck whenever rang or shoved a certain way in the wind. The balcony hedge, glimmering and clean, was cleverly adorned with precious, hanging artifacts and jewels from long ago.

Stars scattered across the sky, looking like blazing, diamond-white fireballs against the tips of the clouds. Some dissolved into the twilight, others moved across the moon.

She stood gazing across the distant lands she had always called home, clad in a mourning robe, rid of her heavy, queenly make-up, with loose curls falling around her face. Beneath the robe, a tight dress evenly shaped and ignited her slender body, a dress made of the finest and most lavishing material.

A white gown, seemingly whiter than the purest, heavenly white, which dipped below the knees, covered her arms completely, but exposed her back, the clothing finely open to stretch across her skin, with a v-shape hemming to fall and split at the base of her spine.

She leaned against the hedge, gleaming eyes cast outward and far beyond the plains. Her hands held firmly to the railing to keep from stumbling, turning her knuckles white and making her skin tremble and crawl.

Padmé no longer looked like a queen. She became the image of a simple, ordinary young woman, who wore simple garments and untied her hair. Her long, luscious locks fell to frame her face beautifully, her painted lips, shimmering. Her eyes flickered in the darkness.

A moment later, a sound, a sweet sound, reached her ears. A musical, lovely sound that she had never heard before. She looked around, but found no one. Could it be bells? The wind chimes? Her eyes scanned the courtyards below.

A slight movement from the forests and grass below in the courtyard and gardens caught her attention.

A figure, a tall and slender figure, enveloped in darkness, overcome by shadow, sat near the dark center of the colossal garden, surrounded by the lush plants and greens and colorful decorations that were scattered throughout the courtyard.

A man, she guessed, was sitting on a stone bench near a large, decorated stone fountain in the center of the garden, which was strictly placed in the courtyard for beauty, its clear and crystalline waters flowing magically and soothingly within the bejeweled fountainhead. His one knee was drawn to his chest, his other leg stretched - and yet slightly bent at the knee - firmly in front of him, on the ground.

His elbow was bent and resting on his drawn up knee. He was arched over as if so heavily drawn into the music that surrounded him in the quiet night, not knowing anything else, devoid of all other knowledge and swept away into a peaceful, moonlit dreamland.

In his hands he held an instrument. An instrument Padmé did not recognize from far away. The instrument was pressed to his mouth, with his fingers elegantly smoothed over the opened holes in the tool, blowing air through it and equaling a sirenic, strange music.

He was in deep concentration. His eyes were closed.

Padmé rested her arms on the ridge, smiling softly as she titled her head and watched. The man made almost no movement, save for the demanding sways and bends of his fingers.

The song he was playing sounded unfamiliar, but gentle and deeply known. It nearly sounded as if his song was a soft lullaby, so well-known and evenly mastered.

The man donned a cloak. The moonlight passed over his still, unmoving form and graciously lit his handsome face, aligned in starlight silver. Padmé leaned over the edge of the balcony. From the distance she could see his nearly-white tunic outline, the gentle flow of his cloak as it hung leisurely around him in a striking, warm layer of earthy chocolate brown.

His dexterous hands danced across the instrument, the soft, ravishing music twisting and turning up into the air, reaching her ears, carrying the silence away like a swift winter wind…

Padmé closed her eyes, tilting her head up towards the moon and smiled. It was such a fascinating and enchanting sound. Yet deep within the musical notes, the cords, the solemn man, there was a surreal sense of sadness.

Padmé slowly opened her eyes. But of course! It was a mourning song - a song of sadness. A song of sleep.

And what a strange, dismaying lullaby it was - and the man, shadowed by the moonlight, seemed rather calm by the music that left the instrument, spraying from his lips. Padmé wondered how this man could maintain his calm demeanor as the music lifted and caressed the cool, nighttime air that rippled around them both.

The music, the melody, the song itself was so…_saddening_, so heartbreaking. How could this man, alone in the darkness of her lush garden courtyard be so solemn and tranquil?

The Queen of Naboo tucked a glossy lock of wavy, chestnut hair behind her ear, leaning forward to gaze closer at the figure of the man in the garden below. The fountain, its crystal waters alight with the splendor of the moon, had turned a alluring silver, glittering against the stone bench nearby, where the man sat.

The music continued, a tender, entrancing melody that made Padmé's spirits suddenly fall to a mournful ruin. As she watched the man for some time more, he did not move, and neither did she. She only studied him, listening to the soothing music, the tone.

And, though hardly visibly, a single, sparkling tear fell from the man's eye and splashed onto his hand. So the music affected him as well. _How can it not?_ Padmé wondered.

A mourning song cast such despair in to the human heart, and when acknowledged, those feelings could not be ignored.

In the middle of a raising crescendo in the song, he turned his head, his eyes still closed hard - and only then did Padmé see his face fully. And when she did, her eyes widened, her brow knit together, and her hand went to her heart.

Obi-Wan Kenobi.

This Jedi Apprentice, this Padawan, had been sitting there playing such a gorgeous tune? In the garden, no less? Padmé squinted her eyes to get a closer look at him, and saw that it was definitely Obi-Wan - his Padawan braid, his well-built physique, his posture…all of it was familiar, all of it belonged to Obi-Wan. The apprentice who had, just three days earlier, lost his master.

She remembered the death of Obi-Wan's master, Master Qui-Gon Jinn, and how great it had affected his apprentice. The burning of his body had been performed two days ago. No wonder Obi-Wan was playing such a sad lullaby - a mourning song - for his heart was grieving and aching just as badly.

Throughout her rising thoughts and memories of the past days, Obi-Wan hardly moved from his arched position. The instrument was still laced in his hands, his fingers still slithering along the wooden holes. His eyes remained closed.

He had come to the courtyard in search of solitude - to sit in his loneliness, unwilling to share his cold grief. Padmé finally understood. In the dark hours of the night, trailing out to her deserted, beautiful garden, hidden by the moonlight, Obi-Wan had ventured, secretly, reluctant for any sunlight comfort.

In her garden, a place where there was nothing but silence, where the song of sadness could conceal the feelings of his sad heart.

She understood. In the garden, there wasn't a soul to judge him, to hold his grief against him.

And it was a place where no one could see him cry.

Padmé walked to the outer edge of the balcony, her footsteps scraping across the stone floor. A gentle breeze passed through the courtyard, softly blowing back her hair.

The rustle of her footsteps echoed within the wind, creating a dull, rustling sound.

The peaceful, supple music ceased, and silence bellowed around the two lone figures in the darkness of the silver moonlight. Padmé remained perfectly still, watching him. The sound of her movement must have startled him.

The trance, the enigmatic spell, was broken.

The instrument abruptly left his lips, and he vigilantly lifted his head, his keen eyes scanning everything all about him, as if there was some unknown, sinister rogue waiting in the shadows.

He stood up, reflexes quick, his cloak whipping madly behind him as he stood. He looked around, somewhat confused, but alert. After a moment passed and nothing was said, when there were no more sounds, no more wind, Obi-Wan cast his gaze downward, as if suddenly weighed down or disappointed by a saddening thought.

"Don't stop," Padmé said in the silence from her perch.

Obi-Wan looked up, the instrument still clutched in his strong hand. When he saw her, he looked over his shoulder, as if he were wary that they were being watched. He looked back up at her. "Your Majesty."

Padmé smiled. "I hope I didn't startle you."

He seemed anxious, as if he had just been caught in the middle of an inappropriate act. "Your highness, I beg your pardon…I did not mean any harm…"

"Why must you apologize? The garden is for my most respected and friendly guests, to be used at any time…to find peace and privacy…you did no harm."

He took a step forward, his cloak swaying behind him. He raised his worried eyes to meet hers. "I was here in an ungodly, suspicious hour. It was not my place. And even if you deem not so, your majesty, I apologize."

Padmé frowned. "Obi-Wan, why would I deny you access to my garden when you of all people are worthy of such privilege?"

They stared at one another for a quiet moment.

"Your highness…" he whispered.

She gave a small smile, a smile that he did not see, and disappeared from the balcony, turning and making her way down a flight of stairs near the balcony. A moment later, she reappeared on the courtyard grounds below, in the garden. She walked toward Obi-Wan near the central fountain, both of their shapes illuminated by the silver starlight.

"What was that song?" Padmé asked when she reached him.

"It has no name," Obi-Wan said simply.

She smiled. "It was beautiful."

She walked over to the fountain and sat at the stone bench, arranging her unwrinkled, white nightdress around her legs. Obi-Wan turned to her, slipping his hands in the wide sleeves of his cloak. "I used to come here late at night, whenever I couldn't sleep," Padmé told him, her voice turning into a dreamy whisper. "It has been so long since I last visited this place at such an hour…I had forgotten."

Silence reigned.

"That tune…it was so sad. Was it a--?"

"Mourning song," Obi-Wan finished for her. He looked into her eyes. "A very common one played after a tragic gathering or a…a death."

Neither of them admired the mask offormality that acted as a barrier between them.

Padmé folded her hands and looked up at the night sky. "The stars are so beautiful," she said, observing the wide stretch of stars and clouds above.

Obi-Wan slowly positioned himself on the stone bench beside her.

"I've always admired the stars, as well," Obi-Wan said, and their eyes met. He smiled. "Qui-Gon used to ramble on about how there were so many, yet so few only showed themselves against the moons."

Once again, the quietness bellowed around them, and nothing was said for several long moments.

"I wish you hadn't stopped playing," Padmé said to him. Obi-Wan gave her a small smile. "I did love that tune."

"Even if it was so sad to hear?"

"Yes."

Suddenly, a cold, icy breeze swept over them. Padmé hugged her robe close to her slender body. She laughed. "I do love the garden," she said. "But I had indeed forgotten how cold it can become in the later hours."

"Your Majesty." Obi-Wan placed his hand on her shoulder, studying her closely, his brow wrinkled. He stood and threw off his cloak, revealing his light-colored tunic and belt, and gently arranged the robe around her shoulders.

The cloak was still warm.

"Obi-Wan, it's just a breeze…" she protested as he reclaimed his seat beside her.

"You're shivering."

Padmé sighed in defeat. "Very well."

The moonlight passed over them, taking all traces of conversation or movement along with it. The moon rose high in the dark sky, and the stars shimmered like perfect crystals.

"How long were you standing there?" Obi-Wan wondered. The queen looked up at him. "Listening to me."

She shook her head. "Not long at all. I was only admiring the scenery, and then I heard music." she was silent for a short moment. "You know, the moment I heard your music, I felt as if I wanted to cry…it was such a heartbreaking melody."

"Appropriate for such a time."

Sadness and pity swam in her eyes as she observed him. "Obi-Wan…" she raised her hand to touch his shoulder.

He said nothing as her hand lingered there, softly. His muscles flexed underneath her fingers. "Padmé," it was the first time he had used her first name, the first time the enchanted word had left his lips since he had been given permission to do, several weeks ago. Only when he said her name did he realize how nicely it rolled off his tongue.

Her eyes glittered as she smiled a little. Obi-Wan edged closer to her, resting his hand on her own, guiding it to gently cup his cheek. He smiled. Her hand was so soft, so delicate and smooth on his face…

Padmé smiled softly at him as she leaned in closer. The cloak slipped from her shoulders and fell behind her, off of the bench, onto to the ground.

Obi-Wan, though nervous with uncertainty, let his hand trail down her arm and smooth over her luscious, curvy body, stopping at her waist. His other hand rested on the side of her neck, just below her ear.

Their bodies crept closer, their covered legs, touching.

Their faces were drawing nearer and nearer, their lips a centimeter away…

"Oh, Padmé," Obi-Wan whispered, their lips barely touching. He closed his eyes and she did the same.

They kissed, a soft and heartfelt kiss. Padmé leaned in to deepen the action, and Obi-Wan cupped her one cheek with one hand, while his other hand trailed to lie in the center of her back and pulled her closer, against him.

Padmé let her hand slowly explore him, sliding elegantly as the kiss continued.

The taste of his lips was delicious. A mixture of sadness, of an unrequited love, of sweet mint that was absolutely irresistible. The kiss deepened, the passionate fire between their hearts fusing and merging, burning brilliantly.

And when they pulled away and looked into each other's eyes in a new light, another hope for a distant future, there was hardly silence, yet hardly sound…

And from the dark reaches of the garden courtyard, muffled by the glorious flow of the silver waters of the fountain, the song of sadness, the mourning song, was heard, echoing in the far distance within the moonlight depths.

* * *

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. All of them belong to George Lucas. I am not making any money off of this, so don't sue me (please)! 

Read? Review!


End file.
